Skip the Rehab
by Pinlicous
Summary: A spin off of Season 4 concentrating on Sam's obsession for demon blood. Wincest will be evident in later chapters. M rating for later installments.
1. Voice

**Author's Note** Just letting you know now that this is one of my first fanfictions- and my very first Supernatural fanfiction. I tried to keep in character as much as I could, though there are bound to be slip ups somewhere. This is not beta tested, so if something seems awkwardly warded or hard to understand, please feel free to notify me.

**Disclaimer ** I do not own Supernatural, nor any of it's respective characters. Please be advised that this sexy can't be made from such a mind as my own. Just too sexy.

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A creaky hinge, a soft footstep, and a quick click. Sam sighed heavily, leaning himself against the pale white hotel room door he just finished closing. The edge of the peep whole stabbed uncomfortably him in the high of his back, but Sam didn't move. His thoughts skipped across his mind as he stared up at the ceiling. He noticed how dirty and dust it looked, but his mind was more focused on other things. Instead mental images popped into his head, playing back from recent events.

Sam threw a fist into his older brother's face causing Dean to stumble back. He noted how weak Dean was being and Sam couldn't gold back a surprised, yet stringing feeling erupting in his gut. He felt that same feeling now as the string of recent memories flooded in. He immediately regretted leaving. But he was persistent. He was going to do what he thought was right and screw Dean for holding him back. His anger triggered more of the memories. Most of it was a blur from being flung to and fro by his brother. They punched each other, and punched each other. Sam took a finger and touched right under his nose. The blood had only crusted over slightly.

His emotions were running high now, each bruise from his physical beating started to inflict their own mental bruises. In an effort to control this, Sam lifted himself off the door and started to walk to the bathroom. Cleaning up would be a good start to pushing this behind him. Until he could prove to Dean he had the guts to do the right thing no matter what obstacle was in his way- brother or not. However, he was soon met with hands slamming into his face. Suddenly he was brought to his knees, those same hands pulling at his forehead and chin, opening his mouth wide. His muscles tensed in his legs as the hands pushed him to his knees. One knee hit the ground and the other soon followed pursuit. Sam darted his eyes back and forth, trying to get a look at his attacker- or perhaps attackers. This was futile for all he could see was the one light fixture fastened to the ceiling.

"Sam Winchester." A rough, deep voice spoke quietly. Same couldn't move his head, but he fought as much as he could. His throat and mouth was becoming dry and he wasn't sure what the hell was going on. His questioned came out as odd noises from the back of his throat as he was unable to move his jaw to mouth the words. He wanted to scream these questions, but was soon confronted with the voice.

"Don't have a fit. I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was surprisingly soothing. The voice seemed to wash a feeling over him then, calming him only enough for it to continue speaking. Sam was still scared, terrified- almost. He hadn't consumed any demon blood for well over a week meaning he would only be left with his natural strengths. He started to nudge his arms, but that only seemed to provide him with more hands to secure him down.

"Actually, I'm here to assist you." The voice continued after a few moments, letting Sam settle and take in what she had just said. Sam could hear her footsteps trail from the linoleum floor to the carpet. She was circling him slowly, intensifying the moment for Sam. He gave up fighting finding it useless. He'd wait for an opportunity to slip out and with his saved strength, he'd probably be able to over power his constraints. He counted just how many hands were on his. It had to be at least four.

"I'll cut to the chase, I see that you are getting impatient. But that's alright, so am I. Impatient with your lack of common sense. I'm sick of watching you foul your mouth with that offensive demon's blood. I pity you, yet I still seemed to understand what you are trying to accomplish. I know you want to help people. I know it's why you keep hunting even after Azazle's death. That being said, I cannot keep watching you jump blindly into this spiral. I'm going to help you help others."

The footsteps stopped now. He could sense that the voice was now in front of him. It was softer then before her long monologue- more sincere. And that was when he realized that the voice belonged to a woman. She had to be in her early twenties at the most. Her voice was kind and confident. And the earlier feeling of calm became security with her voice's new found tone.

"If blood is what gives you strength, so be it. I will give you enough blood to cleanse your clouded judgement and ever darkening soul."

Sam's heart began to break the sensations her words were creating. His heart pushed up the security and it broke into worry. There were now even more questions he wanted to ask. Some consisting of 'what are you?' and 'what are you going to do?' His adrenaline was high and he could feel his pulse pounding into his neck as it was being stretched back by the hands. A pale hand appeared above his head now. He noted a marking on the bottom side of her write as she clenched her fist. A silver blade reflected off of the light he guessed came from a window near the entrance of his hotel room. Sam tried to shake his head, almost pleading with those odd noises again.

"Hush, it will be alright." Were her final words before she slit her wrist carefully. The blade reflected of the moonlight, taking Sam's vision into white for a split second. Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. He saw the blood rushing to catch up with the knife's path. Soon, one single droplet pooled at the end of her wound. She squeezed her fist, allowing the blood to separate from her skin. The droplet landed on his tongue and he shook his head violently, trying to brake himself free to spit it out.

It slid all the way down into his throat sending a burning trail. It burned so intensely his mind flashed back to the first time he had taken Ruby's wrist and sucked up her blood cautiously. It had hurt so much going down his throat. He felt like hellfire was in her blood, scorching the very insides of his esophagus. But this blood was different. It burned for only a split second. It was as if it was burning up the trails that Ruby's blood had left.

The hands let go of him and he swung his head forward. The blood's sensations distracted him and all he did was stare at the floor. He felt calm for a minute, but then his temple was throbbing. It felt as if a thousand pound weight had crushed him into the floor as he flung backward. His back slammed into the floor and his hands quickly reached up to his throat. It felt somewhat like going through withdrawal all in a matter of minutes. He sweat, his heart raced, he felt palpitations, his muscle tensed, his chest felt as if it was in a tug-of-war match, his breaths hitched, his body was shaking, and he felt like he was going to vomit. And then he felt nothing.

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**Author's Note **Thank you for reading. You're a brave soul.


	2. Empath

Sam tried to open his eyes, but it felt as if he had been sleeping for days. Had he? Crinkling his face into a grimace, he slowly prodded his eyes open. He once again was able to make out the ceiling of the motel room. As he found himself looking at his surroundings, he felt extremely well rested. At first the grogginess had taken a toll on his body, but now he feels comfortable rising to sit up. When he finally regained some sense of balance, he lifted himself up off the floor.

Was it him, or did the world seem so much brighter? He squinted his eyes and found that the once dreary room now lit up with life. Color splashing in his face.

He now noticed a presence beside him. It was tugging on his jacket. It seemed worried. He looked over and started to make out the features that belonged to this recently discovered essence beside him. It was Ruby. Her mouth was running a million miles an hour, her eyes brows quirked and squished together. He noticed her eyes lighting up and then going wide.

"Can you hear me?" She yelled in a last ditch effort to get through to the hulking man beside her.

"Yeah... sorry." His apology was quiet and not very meaningful. He scratched the back of his head, unaware yet totally aware of his surroundings. "What's going on?"

"I'd like to ask you the same question. Why were you on the ground? Don't like the comfort of a bed anymore?" She was clearly frustrated with him. She turned her back on him and started to swing her arms out, allowing her hands to brush up her hair in the process. Ruby's hands were on her hips now and she shifted her weight to one leg.

Same suddenly had the feeling he needed to get out of there. He needed to run away and find someone. But who? His eyes darted back in forth as he scanned his brain for a correct answer. And as if he was on some Saturday night game show, it clicked! Bingo! Or should he say Dean-o!

"Dean. God, I have to see Dean!" Ruby flinched a little at the word. She had since turned back around to face Sam, but he didn't take that to mind.

Before Ruby could protest further, he was half way out the door and speeding up by the second.

"Dammit." Ruby spat. "Almost had him."

Sam fumbled with the key, almost scratching up the metal in his eager rush to get inside. When the tumblers of the lock finally clicked into place, he felt happiness surge through him. Images of Dean's face danced over his head now, and for some reason they all looked extremely different then he remembers. They were bright, vivid. They expressed Deans eyes in such a vibrant color, he almost tripped into the room at the thought of them.

"Dean!" Sam was exasperated now, huffing for air, heaving his chest.

Dean sat at a lonely table in the far corner of the room. Several beer bottles laid strewn around it. On the floor and on the table. Some where even on the bed. The elder Winchester sat on the tall stool, slumped over on the small table. It look as if he going to topple over it.

"Dean?" He repeated, but this time softer and more of a question.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean slurred, his voice rough and tight. His forehead was leaning on his arm while his free arm was protectively curled around his head. This made his voice muffled. He must have gotten too hot, because he lifted up his head slowly. Dean rubbed his stubble.

Sam realized why he was in such a bad mood. Why his brother was like this. Because of him. Sam eyed the bruises he must have inflicted on him while some of his own bruises started to ache.

"Dean..." He said one last time. He started forward, but Dean's hand whipped up, stopping the younger sibling in his tracks.

"I told you..." He started to say, but he was obviously too emotional to continue the sentence. _If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back, _Sam finished in his head. But he smiled anyway. He had a feeling that Dean didn't mean it. He never meant those kinds of things. Family was the biggest thing to Dean. Sam should have respected that. But that damn demon blood...

Sam steeled himself for rushing urge for the blood then. He waited for the pain of withdrawal and the sting in his eyes. He half expected to feel large bags under his eyes. But nothing. This sudden awareness of how pure Sam felt must have shown on his face. His older brother now looked over him with his dim green eyes. Sam opened his mouth to share the good news, but only managed to let out, "De-" before the Dean's cellphone went off. It was his second phone and they both knew that that was someone important.

Before Dean fished in his pocket, he eyes his brother. "This isn't over." He said with a silent, _you aren't getting out of it that easy_, look. Sam nodded, but Dean was already turned around, shuffling across the room to his duffel. He dug up a notepad and a pen. He clicked the pen and started to scribble at the edge of the paper but it wouldn't work. He huffed, pardoned himself for a minute to find another pen. But Sam had already picked the pen up, dabbed the end of it on his tongue, and handed it to Dean.

Sam realized how close their bodies were now and he wondered if Dean was uncomfortable. Then Dean cleared his throat, nodded, and took the pen. Sam could tell he was nervous. When did Dean get nervous around him? When did Sam get nervous around Dean?

Sam stepped back then. Assessing what the hell was going on. His mind flickered to when he was on the floor in his hotel room.

"What happened before that?" He questioned himself aloud. Dean locked eyes with him. When did he get off his phone?

"What happened before what?" Dean asked, pulling off his grey tee. Sam's heart jumped. _Crap. _Sam's eyes jumped all over his body, but why? When? He was utterly confused and he couldn't breath. Sam sprinted off into the bathroom and closed the door with a loud _bang_. What if Dean was trying to make a move? Or better yet- wait, worse yet!- throw him on the bed just like his usual one-night stands.

_It's alright. Just keep calm and don't fuss. This isn't going to hurt you, it just feels like it does now. I promise, this will help you. _Sam could hear the words clear as day in his head, but he knew it had to have been from a memory. He felt sick as he listen to each word, as if he was being punched in the gut over and over again, yet soothed quietly and reassured with a soft hand caress. When he thought of hands, his mind shot to a different memory. Large, rough hands had taken a hold of his head and then... then what happened? Sam's brain work was soon disturbed by a pounding on the door.

"Dude, what is wrong with you? Get outta there, I need to take a shower." Dean paused and Sam could hear him shift. "We've got a case."

Sam's pressure in his head gave way to relief. _That's why he was undressing. Thank god. _

"Hello ma'am. I'm agent Fredricks and this is agent Monroe. We're here to talk to you about the recent accident that occurred in your home a few weeks ago." Sam waved his badge and used his other hand to gesture between the two men as he confirmed their identities. Dean had stuck his hand in his pocket moments earlier and stuck a "sexy" pose for Sam.

"Dig it, my names Monroe." He had said. He was such a child.

Sam snapped back to the present just in time to notice the woman at the door bobbed her head and stepped aside. They entered cautiously, keeping up their front as FBI agents. They both take a seat on the plush cream colored couch. They sit a tad too close, bumping knees together. Neither of them seem to notice the awkward glance the elder lady gives them. Probably because they are both now red in the face. They push that aside quickly. The job is more important at the moment.

"So, Mrs. Malone, what can you tell us about the day the accident happened." She visibly shook slightly. Dean had prodded Sam into questioning the poor woman even though it had only be a few days since the "accident" happened. Still, Sam could tell that the woman had a lot of fight in her. Her eyes met his gaze and she sucked in a sharp breath, filling her lungs with cold hair. She spoke, finally saying, "It wasn't an accident."

Dean could see the relief in her shoulders. He figured she had been lying to the police. Most likely because the actual events were extremely unbelievable. It's a goo start, Dean congratulates himself with a large smirk in Sam's direction. Sam's eyes widen, giving him the _really man? This totally isn't the time _look. Dean sighed in victory nonetheless for a moment before looking back at the fragile woman across the coffee table.

"What do you mean it wasn't an accident?" Dean follows up, flipping up his notepad and clicking the pen. The same pen from earlier.

"I... I saw something." She breathed deeply, her eyes watering. Sam could sense the pain she was feeling somehow. It almost brought tears to his own eyes. Sam shook the feeling and started to speak, but then she strongly continued on. "My husband... he... he looked like my husband, but his eyes." She motioned to her own watery eyes. Her words caught in her throat, but her lips still tried to mouth the words. "They were... _black. _And then, then they weren't! And he gave me some kind of quizzical look before a large puff a smoke shot from his mouth. And then he tumbled down the stairs. And I just stood there. I didn't know what to do!"

She was crying hysterically now and Sam had to bite his tongue. He felt water rushing to his eyes, but he squeezed them shut immediately, allowing himself to compose. Dean was watching him now, though, and he saw everything. Knowing this didn't stop Sam from looking over at him, however. He knew they would talk later, for now they had a possible demon trail.

"It's alright, ma'am. It's alright." Sam tried to sooth her by gently laying a hand on her shoulder.

"No, no it isn't. I'm going crazy- I have to be!" She threw up her arms as high as she could, which wasn't very high given her old age. "I... I don't think I can look at Donald the same way anymore."

"You're husband is still alive?" Dean asked, a bit surprised.

"Yes. Yes... can I ask what you are here for again?"

"Actually, we don't have time for that ma'am. Thanks for all the info. We'll check back later if we need anything else." Dean hurried Sam and himself out the door, giving one last salute to the woman before taking the door knob in his hand and swinging the door shut.

"You didn't know her husband was alive? Is there something going on?" Sam teased. Dean was usually very precise. Especially when he was the one researching. But Dean wouldn't admit that between the alcohol and the early morning _Sam!_ jitters that he had slipped up on a few details. Which reminded him how pissed he was a Sam.

"Shut up. After this we are having a serious talk. And I swear, if you..." He held his finger out, trying to center his anger all at one point so that when he jabbed his little brother in the chest, he wouldn't do anything worse.

But he didn't touch Sam. He _couldn't_ touch Sam. Something strange was happening between them. He didn't know if it was the shock of loosing Sam for those few hours or perhaps the constant fear that Sam will end up walking out that door again. That it was only a matter of time before he crept away again. Or maybe Dean was afraid of these resurfacing feelings for his brother. They had been so tightly locked away... and just one morning- one stupid pen- had struck a nerve. He couldn't help but feel this way again and he was damned if he would let Sam know.

"I won't leave." Sam blurted out. Dean was taken aback. Evidently, so was Sam. They both had taken a step back from each other. Dean bumped into a supporting column of the porch they occupied. It jolted his awareness.

"Yo- ye-. We gotta go!" Dean gave a pathetic huff as he stumbled on his words. Stomping off the porch onto the pavement of the pathway to the fence, Dean continued to huff. He wouldn't admit the millions of thoughts running through his head. And he wouldn't dare brush over the thought that the demon blood might be changing Sam even more now. No, not now. Not when his defenses are being built back up. Not until he started acting like a man again.

Dean turned on his heels then and looked back at the younger Winchester. "You coming or what?"

"Yeah."

Sam was quiet the rest of the ride back to the hotel. When they arrived at the crummy hotel door, Sam stopped up short and left Dean walking inside by himself. He nearly shut the door on Sam before Dean realized that Sam wasn't coming through. The elder Winchester's heart skipped a beat then. _What if he wasn't coming back? This soon?_ When Dean turned around he saw that Sam was looking over in another direction. To his left.

Sam and Ruby locked eyes then. She was hiding behind the corner of the hotel room's office window. Knowing that Dean was so close, it was a suicide mission to even approach him. So, she decided to allow herself the treat of making him uneasy. There was still some fire in his gut for Ruby. But it had lessened as he started to jostle back to reality. What had driven him so fiercely to her in the first place? Some misplaced anxiety about not being able to hold his own? For some reason the thoughts behind his betrayal of Dean had seemed so foolish- childish to the extend of being completely inconsolable.

Sam blinked for a minute and she was gone. He didn't think about her much after that. Instead he looked at his brother and gave a weary smile. He knew he had hurt Dean and there was nothing he could do to make that better. But he could try to start with kicking this case in the ass.

Dean had the case mapped out on the spare hotel wall that happened to be void of any decoration. It had only taken him a few hours, but Sam figured the harsh tension between them made Dean more than happy to delve waist deep in the mess. Sam had since been looking into more reported "accidents" around the area. But nothing showed up. Did they catch the front end of a case? That would be a first.

"Why do you suppose the demon didn't kill Mrs. Malone?" Sam asserted into the dense silence.

"No idea, man. A typical demon would have no problem gangking a sweet old lady like Baloney."

"It's Malone." Sam corrected.

"Whatever." Dean glanced a scowl towards Sam. It made Sam crack a smile. Dean frowned, quickly turning his body back to the web. "Even lacking some other evidence- like news paper articles and what not- we've got a bunch of dirt on this case. Nothing of which really connects, though."

"What do you have so far, anyway?"

"Well, that old lady was number one, obviously. But another couple had spoke about something similar happening to them. They played it off like it was some dream or something. Shared dreams? Come on."

"Anything else?" Sam urged on, feeling a great sense of pride for some reason.

"Yeah. Get this, some couple said that their dog said 'woof'. Literally said 'woof'." And Dean and Sam shared a respective laugh. So similar.

"Dude, stop it." Dean was rubbing the back of his head as he said it.

"Stop what?"

"Being so... agreeable. And trying to bond with me. Dude, I'm sorry, but I'm pissed as hell with you right now."

Sam sat back on the stool he occupied. His side was turned to face the laptop that situated itself on the now cleared table. "Look man, I'm not trying to bond with you. I know what I did... I..." He stopped himself before he could say something stupid. He turned to face his laptop and typed in a couple of different search words he hadn't thought of before.

Both of them didn't look at each other for the rest of the night. They were both confused. And then they were both embarrassed because Dean had booked a single queen bed. And Dean was reluctant to let Sam leave again, not knowing if he'd ever come back. Dean slept on the floor beside the bed giving Sam the comfortable bed. Sam had opened his mouth to protest, but Dean was already fluffing his pillow and laying down on the hard floor. Once Dean made up his mind, it was made up. No arguments allowed.

But even though Dean had left Sam to sleep alone in the bed, he felt Dean's presence clearly beside him. He wasn't sure why. He decided to put his money on nostalgia. He looked back on a typical night for the Winchesters back when they were younger. There father had been injured and the boys didn't have enough money left over after the hospital bill. They were forced to get a single bed. Sam and Dean tried desperately to fit on the small mattress, but one way or another Dean had ended up falling off in his sleep. Sam awakened by a loud thud and a breathless curse. Sam recalled that Dean had just graduated from middle school then and Sam found it increasingly annoying when his brother's vocabulary consisted of four letter insults. Every other word was some version of 'shit', 'fuck', or 'bitch'.

Sam's eyes flew open as he felt a strange tinge of anger in his throat. For a moment he thought that it was a burn for blood. But as he fully awoke the sensation wasn't the same. He sat up in bed, holding his throat lightly. Then he honed in on the feeling of eyes on him. He looked straight ahead to see Ruby peering in from the window. Her hair was blowing lightly in the wind brushing past her eyes every so often. And then the feeling in his throat and the pierce of her eyes seemed to click a thought in his head.

"I can sense emotions."


	3. The Fool's Introduction of Sorts

**Author's Note **I'm giving you a heads up that I'm using some common lore, but also putting my own twist on it. Nothing is cold hard facts. Cause I can't do that much research to save my life. Ask my English grade.

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It'd been quite a few nights since Sam had realized his new ability. It was an awkward ability that plagued him from the beginning. Eventually, Sam learned to brush it off until he wasn't in front of someone. Especially if that someone was Dean. Sam felt a little discouraged when he met Dean's eyes. He hadn't said anything about his new ability to his older brother, and Sam kept putting it off. By the time Sam had the guts to say anything, he just played it off as a one time thing. That just so happened to happen more and more frequently. Until, finally, sensing the heavy tension in the room, Sam blurted out something stupid.

"Would you _please_ just go out and get laid already?"

"What?" Dean snapped his head to look at his brother. Sam was situated at the table in a hunched over 'I'm researching' slouch.

Sam felt his face burn up. All the thoughts in his head were banging back and forth until he finally couldn't help it. He didn't cower back into himself as he usually did when confronting Dean. No, he was going to get this god damned tension out of his brother if it killed him.

"I can feel it all the way over here, man. Go to a bar- do something! I can't take it anymore."

"Hey, I'm not miss brood over here." Dean spat back, motioning his hand toward Sam. Sam had to admit that he was getting pretty frustrated with their current case. This mysterious demon was still playing tricks on the townspeople. No real leads had showed up- whether that was good or bad. Both the brothers wanted to play it off as a demon passing through, but they both knew that wasn't the case. Demons just don't 'pass through' without at least killing _someon_e. Maybe this demon was just fucking with them. Maybe it was Ruby?

Dean saw Sam visually tense up then. The elder Winchester got up from his bed and pulled out a chair from the table. It wasn't big enough to allow them to sit face to face for their knees would have scrunched together uncomfortably. Instead he positioned himself beside Sam and clapped a hand on his back.

"What's up man?"

"I..." Sam began, but felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. Dean had repeatedly told him he disapproved of Ruby. And now that Sam has an accusation against her... Well, the little brother felt a tad bit too little now. "It's nothing."

"Whatever, dude. I'm starving. Let's hit that diner again. Their burgers are _so_ good!" Dean held up his hands as if he was holding a giant burger. He shook them a little to emphasis his point. Sam's stomach felt empty then, twisting a little. Normally he would think of this feeling as normal- everybody with a soul has gotta eat, right? But Sam wanted- no _craved_- a giant, thick, burger. Topped with tomatoes, unions, and a shit load of barbeque sauce! Sam snapped out of it, wiping the drool from his mouth.

"Dude, please keep your appetite to yourself." Sam sighed, picking up the keys from the table.

"Who said you could drive?" Dean caught up to him, snatching the keys away. He swung open the door and crossed his right arm along his body, tucking it up and bending forward. His legs were crossed. "Ladies first."

Sam would have hit him then if he didn't find Dean's joke so amusing. Or maybe he fantasized about a well-mannered Dean- No, definitely just a cheesy joke.

Sam ended up getting a giant burger after all. For a while he marveled the taste of tangy ketchup and bitter onions. Of course he regretted it later when he vomited it back up only hours later.

"Light weight." Dean had commented over the sickening hacks his brother made. They had to pull over the road for Sam. Taking advantaged of open space, Dean decided to take out the giant map that was hopeless crammed into the glove box and lay it on the hood of the Impala. It was tough getting that thing open with such a tight space. Dean fished his hand back in the glove compartment for a highlighter. His hand emerge with a bright, pink marker. Much to his distaste, he took it and started to track the demon's odd occurrences.

"Any pattern?" Sam said has he strode up behind Dean. He was wiping his mouth when he noticed what Dean was doing.

"Are you kidding me? This bitch has _got_ to be kidding me!" Dean slapped his hand down on the map. Sam peered over Dean's hunched form to notice the pattern made a smiley face.

"I don't think I've ever met a demon so sickeningly facetious." Dean ascribed, cutting Sam off from throwing out a snide remark.

Instead, Sam settled on, "Facetious? You pull that one out of your ass or-"

"Hey, I read, dude." Dean poked Sam's chest, emphasizing _dude_.

Sam felt a jolt in his chest. They both coughed a little, looking away. When they met eyes another jolt occurred. Dean had had enough and he turned around, scattering to pick the map back up.

"We gotta get moving." Dean choked out the best he could, tough-guy facade well broken down.

"Yeah." Sam ignored the obviously awkward air. They both were thankful for that.

They were on their way to the most recent incident. A old guy along the name of Doward Smith had proclaimed that his pet parrot exploded in it's cage. It's last words were 'oh noes!'. Dean had a good ten minute laugh out of that one; and Sam just sat there in silence, a large grin forcing itself onto Sam's face as he took in his brothers overwhelmingly absurd humor. Sam was getting very sick of this Empath bullshit and very quickly so.

The questioning was par for the course. The usual crying victim being preyed for information. Sam couldn't help but scowl at the man's overreaction. Sure, he could get that the parrot was probably his best friend, but... it was just a parrot. It didn't help the awkward mood, either, when Dean started slipping smart ass remarks about the parrot having an 'explosive' personality. The younger man was happy to be out of the stuffy house, but disappointed when there was no new information provided. He shrugged it off though as both of them knew it was a dead end to begin with. They were running out of leads and running out a patience.

"I dunno man, maybe this just isn't our thing. The demon has no real motive and definitely isn't doing any harm." Dean shifted in the driver's side car seat. He cranked up the music a little louder, hoping for Sam to drop it at that.

"Yet, Dean. Maybe it's pissing us off so we'll leave. Maybe it knows we are here and it just wants us to give up. I don't want to take that chance." Sam replied, turning the dial back down.

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" Dean had cut through the brief moment of silence after Sam's last statement. The music had drifted silently for a second too long.

"I have to be certain before I tell you." Sam replies a little too quickly. Dean swung the car over to the side of the road, shifted into park, and cut the engine.

"Tell me now." Dean ordered. There was little room for Sam to argue. He felt the intensity of Dean's discontentment. His emotions slipped under Sam's skin and Sam himself felt a surge of fury. He felt as if something was being hidden from him. That he wasn't able to be trusted. These sensations welled up in Sam's eyes then, feeling a slight sting in them as well. Did Dean want to cry? Searching for the answer in Dean's face proved useless, though. Sam couldn't decide whether Dean really wanted to cry or if Sam just couldn't take the beating.

"I trust you." Sam blurted out, a tear edging its way from Sam's eyelid. He felt the cool rush of it over his face and he quickly jerked his head to peer out the window.

Dean was taken aback. "Man, you're such a girl." Despite the harsh complaints from Dean, his hand reach over and touched Sam's shoulder softly. Sam could feel Dean's anger, frustration, and omitted emotions cease. They ebbed away slowly the longer Dean stared wholes into the back of Sam's head. Sam took a deep breath and turned back around.

"I think Ruby has something to do with this." He confessed. He glanced between Dean's emerald eyes, waiting to hear '_I told you so_'. Thankfully enough, Dean just nodded. A small smirk placed on his face a few minutes later.

"See, that wasn't so hard." He chuckled and slapped Sam's shoulder.

"_But_. But... I'm not completely certain. Please, let's just think this through first." Sam reminded cautiously. Though Sam had cut off most contact from Ruby, he still felt some connection to her. She saved him from his loneliness.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean waved Sam off the conversation. Still, he muttered, "demon's are all the same". When Dean glanced over to check on Sam's face, he felt a little pang of guilt. Sam looked over at him and gave him the '_I forgive you, anyway_' nod. Sam's eyes shifted from one of Dean's eyes to the other. He liked looking at the green fields they seemed to so easily reflect.

"Ruby." Sam whispered a little too nervously. For being a god damn hunter, he was being a pansy right now. Or at least that is what Dean would have said had he won the argument of coming with.

"The last few times you saw her, you wanted to kill her." Sam had said point-blank. "Besides, she's a lot closer to me when were alone."

"Just don't go doing the nasty just to find out if she's in on it." Dean shot jets of brooding emotion over to Sam. And Dean had the nerve to call him the brooding Nancy. Sam brushed it off as he still hadn't gotten around to telling Dean that he could, ya know, feel what he felt. Sam had gotten a little better at it, though. He could choose when to switch off his emotions- well not really switch them off. He was better at concealing his outward appearance. He still felt the tug on his heart strings, unfortunately.

Backing to the present, Sam could see a slight shine of leather making it's way to him. Then Ruby's eyes came into focus as well as her pale skin. The moonlight left little to light up her features, but he subconsciously filled them in.

"Finally want to get back to it, pretty boy?" Since when did she call him that? And why does she seem so pissed?

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something." He shifted his weight to his other leg, shuffling his hands in his pockets. He felt so bumbling then as he reminded himself that she could be in the middle of all this- the main cause.

"What? You think I'm such sick trickster or something?" She spat out, stopping a few feet sooner than she intended.

"Oh god, don't mention that guy- is beside the point!." His sentence mushed together haphazardly and he couldn't help it. He felt like he was twelve again, asking out a beautiful young girl to a school dance or something. What's with this? There is no way he was... no.

"I'm not in love with you." He blurted out immediately cursing himself. What the freaking hell?

_Oh, and sorry about how graceless you'll feel after this._ A voice echoed in his head again. Was he remembering something or was he just going crazy?

"Well, that's nice. I'm glad we can talk one on one like this." Her tone was sour, but she didn't seem all that phased about it. "Look, I'm done playing games. Are you on my side or not? Because right now, Dean is holding you back from what you need to do. You're the only one who can prevent this mother load of fuck about to shit itself all over this place."

"What do you mean 'my side'? I'm not taking anyone's side. Hell, I didn't even know there _were_ sides!"

"You know damn well that Dean wouldn't approve of this. He never wants you to be the hero. He's too selfish to let that happen." Her arms were crossed now, hip jutted to the side and she leaned all her wait on it. The scowl on her face was evident of irritation and betrayal. Not that Sam needed body language to decipher her emotions.

"Well, maybe if Dean doesn't approve of it, that is a good cue to stop doing it." He felt less awkward now, envisioning himself in his brother's shoes. So cheesy, but it worked.

"Really, Sam? You're going to let this whole year of work crumble into dust? Just because your co-dependent brother decides to spring back to life for you?"

That took it too far. Sam was up in her face now, pinning her to the nearest wall he could find. His breath was rough and jagged, and out of context, it seemed like a sex scene waiting to happen. But Sam wasn't one for angry sex. He thinks. Isn't sure. He shakes his head trying to put his thoughts back into perspective.

"Don't- talk about my brother like that." His words came out fierce, but his eyes started to soften. She saved him one way or another.

"Alright... alright, Sam. I'm sorry." She was almost breathless. Was she getting turned on?

"Oh, don't do this to me now, Ruby. This is not the place or the time."

"What do you mean?" She seemed truly clueless. Right, she didn't know about it either.

"Shut up, alright? Tell me about this demon. And if it's you, I swear, Ruby-"

"It's not me you dolt. God, am I the only demon on this planet anymore?" She shoved Sam's arm off of her and repositioned her leather jacket. "It's not even a demon. It's something called 'The Fool'."

"Come again?"

"It's like a trickster. But it's not."

"Thanks." He mutters sarcastically. When he turns his gaze back to look at her, she is gone. "Yay, more research."

Sam got back to the hotel a little later than expected, but Sam had to take a breather. He'd finally had nice, clean, non-tense air to breath. When he stepped through the temporary housing, though, it hit him like a shit ton of bricks. Dean was self-loathing over on his bed, his arms crossed tightly against his chest and one of his legs rested on it's counterpart. He was nervously bobbing his foot in anticipation. He was so deep in perplexing though, Dean didn't notice Sam unlock the door and open it up.

"Dude, where have you been?" He nagged. If he went to go turn on the light, Sam would have-

He turned on the light.

"What are you gonna do now? Stare at me intentionally and accuse me of seeing a mistress?" Sam sat down at the all too familiar table and eased up the cover of the laptop. "Anyway, Ruby did give me a lead. She isn't the problem, by the way."

"How do you know for sure, Sam?"

Sam cleared his throat and Dean knew what was coming. "The Fool is titled _Le Mat_ in the Tarot of Marseilles, and _Il Matto_ in most Italian language tarot decks. These archaic words mean 'the madman' or 'the beggar', and may be related to the word for 'checkmate' in relation to the original use of tarot cards for gaming purposes." Sam took a glance at Dean.

"So, what, we're dealing with another version of the trickster? And I thought one was bad enough." Dean sat back against the headboard of the bed. scrubbing his hand on his face didn't ease much of the tension, but Sam could feel it made him feel comfortable. Sam thought about sitting down beside him, taking his own hand and brushing it softly across his face. Maybe that would make him happy. Or freak him- both of them- out.

"It's like that, but it's not." Sam winced at the uncanny echo of Ruby's words. "The trickster plays tricks because it's fun to him. But The Fool plays tricks because he wants other people to laugh. Or in medical times, it was a way to survive from the noose."

"Alright, so... what about the demon smoking out?"

"I'm guessing The Fool can be just as powerful- if not more- than the trickster."

"Great. How are we suppose to deal with this? I mean, just because it's not a demon anymore doesn't mean it's any easier to find." Dean sighed wearily. Nothing was going right for them in this fucked up town.

"That isn't exactly true." Sam added, ruffling in his jacket pocket. He'd taken the moment's reprieve from Dean to also check out a card shop along the way home. When it came to the job, Sam didn't mind picking a few locks and stealing some useless cards. He produced a set of Taro cards and placed them on the table beside his laptop.

"And?"

"I have no idea."

"Great one, dimwit."


	4. Maybe We Were Fooled

**Author's Note **I tried to do some more research into this part seeing as it's the ending. Now that I look back on my past chapters, however, I feel as if I'm cheating you guys on something much better. I apologize for this. Maybe I will rewrite this on a later date, but for now, enjoy this monstrosity of cheesy love and lack of sex. If I get reviews about it, I will make an epilogue or perhaps a sequel, but that is purely up to you guys.

* * *

Pulling up into a tight alley with such a monstrous vehicle would freak anyone out. If they so needed to get out of there in a hurry, the car could easily catch on a garbage bin or fire escape ladder. But to Dean it was nothing. He was as skilled a driver as any NASCAR racer ever dreamed to be. Or so he told himself.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Dean muttered, squeezing past the tight space between the inside of the car and the door backed up again the alley wall.

"Yeah. Best Tarot card reader in town." Sam repeated to Dean as he did for the last twenty times. Dean never gave him the benefit of the doubt and he was starting to get annoyed with that. But Sam dropped it as they stepped up to a shabby store entrance. The door looked beat and aged from thirty years ago. The paint was peeling off and most of the wood had begun to chip away. Any semblence of paint left on the entry way door was faded. A mixture of red and blue from painting and repainting. The small door held a window on the upper half of it, a small ledge jutted out. A nail was driven into the sill and a sign was hanging from it.

"Well, it's says it's open." Dean commented, grabbing at the sign and immediately dropping it after he made his point. "Sure late for Go Fish."

"Dean, Tarot card reading is so much more than that-" Sam protested, shutting himself up as he felt the surge of mockery coming from Dean. One good thing came of feeling emotions, at least.

Sam pulled on the knob of the door. A squeaky hinge played a horrific melody as the door began to open, sticking on the graceful hinge every second of the way.

"Needs some WD-40, lady." Dean jests, seating himself in front of a small table covered with a large embroidered over throw. Sam pinches him on the back of the neck, eying him fiercely when Dean snaps his head backward to peer up at Sam.

"I thought you'd two never come." The woman turned around in her chair. The small overhanging lamps gave her an ominous look, but Sam and Dean had seen more daunting stares thanks to their supernatural adventures. "You are looking for this, correct?"

They were both taken aback slightly as the image of The Fool's tarot card was revealed. They should have expected it, however. At least Sam should have.

"I will tell you now that you are on quite the hunt." She began speaking quietly, smoothing out each individual card on the table.

Sam was sitting next to Dean by the time he spoke. "Can you do a reading for me?"

Dean looked over at him, cocking an eyebrow. Sam brushed him off lightly, looking into the woman's deep brown-golden eyes. She nodded slowly, not showing any emotions- not sending any emotional signals, either.

Sam had had a reading before. He knew what to do, but he was still nervous. The last card reading he had experienced sent him off to Ruby. Despite the nerves, Sam slowly touches a hand to one of the cards. She flips it over slowly- almost excruciatingly- and it is revealed to be The Magician.

"You feel purpose in your life; and you want to accomplish something great. You should believe in yourself."

The next card, The Hermit, is flipped.

"What you crave the most is the knowledge of your destiny. A companion or lover is evident in your heart, but you are too exhausted to ascertain what that person really means to you."

Giving Dean a distressed glance, Sam looks back and touches another card. The Lovers.

"You are afraid to fall in love again. Yet your mind is pushing you head over heels. You are unsure of what you should say or do, or perhaps say or do nothing at all. Trust your emotions and those around you."

Sam breaths deeply, much of what she is saying stings him. A quick glance to the inverted card discloses The Sun.

"Success, joy, and happiness are present in your future. You will feel confident, and reassured of your past anxiety."

The Wheel of Fortune. Dean gives a small chuckle, but chokes the rest of it back as Sam flicks his gaze to him.

"Good luck is edging its way into your life. Responsibility ways heavy on your heart, but trusting your intuition will prove positive. You may have to give up something great in order to accomplish your utter most goal, however this sacrifice will seem minimal at best. The Wheel may conflict with you at first glance, but later events will prove it's loyalty to you."

The last card is already facing upward when Sam eyes it. The Devil.

"There is another person blocking your vision. A bad seed was planted into your head giving you a sense of self-loathing and need for justice. If you are concerned of your relationship with a certain individual, turn back now. Your tale will end quickly, messy and unjustified."

Sam's hand is on Dean's now. It's under the table and it's shaking. Dean doesn't move to shake it off. He only allows it to send electric shocks down his veins and up to his brain. He glanced over at Sam, his eyes staring wholes into the six cards he had touched. A look of certainty yet confusion spread over his face.

"Thank you." He said solemnly. He reached into his pocket, but the woman's hand held him in place.

"Your brother may not agree with me," she mentioned, looking over at him, then back at Sam,"but I know you have belief in you. I know your faith is dwindling and your heart aches for certainty. I also believe that you know exactly what each card meant, even without interpreting completely."

Sam nodded acknowledgment, pulling his hand out of his pocket and also retreating his other hand from Dean's grasp.

"Now leave. Take your course of action and take is slowly. Time may seem as of essence, but truly it will play out in time."

The motel lights flickered above Sam's head. He was hunched over his laptop again, scanning documents he had come across while looking more into The Fool. His hands awkwardly tapped the small keys, typing words into Google's search bar. He was starting to feel the unease of a teenager again, clearing his throat and re-situating his legs on the tall bar stool.

"We gonna talk about this, or what?" Dean broke the empty silence of the room. They hadn't spoke for a while, even over 2-in-the-mourning breakfast.

"What's there to talk about?" Sam grumbled, hitting the back space several times.

"How about, I dunno, the reading you just got?"

"Since when have you been into that crap? You think all soothsayers and gypsies are lying whores."

"That's beside the point, and you know it. The shit she was spewing was pretty believable to me." Dean was standing now, subtracting the distance between Sam and himself. By the time he was inches from Sam, Sam was also standing tall. He towered over Dean, but it didn't make the elder Winchester back off any more.

"Look... I get what she was saying. Isn't that enough?" Sam broke their deadlock stare, focusing on a shabby painting on the wall to the right. He jumped slightly as Dean's hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to re-lock their gaze.

"It isn't. And you know that better than anyone. It wasn't enough when I told you I got over Hell. It wasn't enough when I said I could handle Dad's death- that I wasn't scared of of my mind. We know each other. You know _me_ better than _anyone_."

Sam's heart skipped a beat with the end of his brother's cluttered jolt. The words smacked Sam in the face as if it was Dean's own hand punching him. He took his chin back, running his hand over it. His chest was heaving as each breath got deeper and deeper. Sam noticed Dean's chest was moving in quite the same manner which made him relax.

And then Dean's emotions slapped him in the face on top of his words. He felt love, desperation, longing, and distrust all at once. The distrust was only a sour taste in his mouth, easily overpowered by each of the other emotions jumbling in his head. He thought some of them were his own or perhaps just intensified by Dean's sentiments. He couldn't tell.

_You are afraid to fall in love again_.

Sam's hand gravitated toward Dean's jaw.

_You are unsure of what you should say or do, or perhaps say or do nothing at all._

Dean leaned into the touch, surprisingly accepting.

_Trust your emotions and those around you._

Their lips grazed each other's softly. Barely touching. Slips of hot breath inched it's way into the space between them. Sam was uncertain, conflicted even; but there was an underlying feeling. He felt extreme rightness in his actions right now. He lifted his other hand to Dean's face, cradling it upward. Sam pressed harder now, but still intensely tender. They stayed like that for minutes, hours, days maybe? When their lips parted, they looked into each other eyes and saw acceptance. They both smiled, embarrassed but happy.

"Sam-" Ruby's voice was like ice hitting Sam's hot skin. He swallowed deeply, turning around ever so slightly. The brief image of Ruby's face sent him reeling back to face Dean.

"I-it's not what it looks like." Dean stuttered, nervously bounding space between them.

"The hell it isn't." Her voice was fierce now. Anger radiated off of her aura, sending prickles of uncomfortable sensations over Sam's body.

"Ruby, look-"

"Shut the hell up, Sam." She was clutching the demon blade she bore in her possession. "I worked too damn hard to get as far as I have. Don't fuck it all up because you're Satan's fucking vessel."

"Wh- hey that isn't fair!" Sam seemed childish for a moment. He felt deprived of such happiness he felt a moment ago and it tugged on his heartstrings.

Ruby took the knife and sliced her wrist, thick, black blood trickled from the wound. Flashes of earlier memories banged in Sam's head. The first time with Ruby, the second, the third, and right before he had been reunited with Dean. And then a fuzzy recollection hit him.

He didn't want the blood. He didn't want anything in relation to it. He didn't want his powers, his false strength, his dignity. He just wanted Dean. When Ruby saw the sense of pure sobriety in Sam's eyes startled her.

"I don't need that anymore." His face was stiff. His body was stiff. His gaze was stiff.

"But... we could save the world, Sammy." She begged him, almost forcing herself on her knees.

"Hey, I'm the only one who can call him that." Dean chipped in, standing closer to Sam on instinct alone. Their arms brushed slightly, but neither of them looked away from Ruby.

"Dammit, Sam. You pathetic excuse for a human being!" She spat, reading the knife in her hand. She was angry- beyond so. Sam surged with it. Each vessel in his body pulsing with rage. It reached his head, a sensation of pure fury rushed over him. But he held back as much he could, breathing in deep, nostrils flaring. His own feelings were breaking the edge off of Ruby's intense anger. He felt betrayed. And he felt ashamed. For trusting Ruby over Dean this whole time.

Ruby plunged for them both, her teeth gritting together as she screamed through them, "I gave up my whole life for this!"

Before Sam and Dean even flinched, she seemed to have stuck in mid-stride. Her eyes widened in shock before thick, black smoke started seeping through her mouth. Sam looked in horror as his ability was being shown in front of him now. But he didn't even make a conscious effort to use them. Was he finally breaking that boundary? Was in out of control so much so that his powers acted on pure adrenaline?

He breathed a sigh of relief when Ruby's stolen vessel fell to the ground. Behind her was standing a tall, blonde, and pale woman. Her hand was stretched out, fingers spread much like Sam did when he used his otherworldly ability. When she lowered her arm, her face began to soften. She reminded Dean of their mother, but she was too young and took thin. She almost appeared too kind, if that were possible.

"I'm proud of you Sam." The voice was familiar, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact face. If there was any. "I told you you could do it."

And before Sam could open his mouth to question the young woman, she was gone.

"Who the hell was that?" Dean gaped.

"The hell if I know, Dean." Sam's brow was coming together, showing an incredulous expression.

It had only taken a matter of hours to burn Ruby's body. The smoke puffed unusually dark, but they didn't think much of it. It had been a demonic vessel for almost a year, after all. They were just outside a graveyard just off of I-94. Ironically, they were fairly close to it from their motel. They didn't think about it that much, either. Alternatively, they began to think about their ever growing relationship as brothers, and perhaps as lovers. Both of them had yet to feel the aftershock of the kiss. It may have been too quick of a caress to mean anything, but sparks had flown over them. Sam felt emotions he'd never though his bother could feel. And he didn't mind exploring those emotions. But even before their relationship The Fool was still at large. Right?

As the case may be, The Fool's actions had ceased entirely. Weeks of frivolous searching came up nothing. They even scoped out near by towns. Nothing had happened after the bursting pet parrot. They associated it with Ruby, the mysterious blonde woman, and even the Tarot card reader. They tried to visit the shop again, but the outdated door had vanished. The only thing left behind was a turned over Tarot card exhibiting The Lovers. They looked at each other and scoffed. Could their lives get much cheesier?

Dean didn't mind. Of all people, Dean embraced it. Almost as tightly as he use to coddle Sam in his arms when it was thundering outside. They were so little and Dean didn't know what to do. So his sighed, hoping to spare his dignity, before taking Sam up in his arms. They rocked back and forth in front of a make-shift fireplace. The red and orange light danced off of their eyes as they stared into it. That moment's affections reflecting their current zeal in the moment. They were held up to each other, arms grasping tightly. Their bulky arms fitting exceptionally well to each other. Their hearts raced and bodies heated against each other. A tiny sense cupidity slicing away their immoral doubts.

"Dean..." Sam spoke when his brother loosened his grip, taking a step back to take a look at the taller man's face. "This is right."

"Yeah, it feels that way, doesn't it, Sammy."

They both smiled warmly at each other. Dean rested a hand on Sam's chest, lightly thumbing the surface.

"I'm sorry I chose Ruby over you." Sam looked into his brothers eyes intensely now, hoping to find a hushed acceptance in them. When Dean opened his mouth to add something, Sam's thumb pursed it shut. "I was so lost without you. I was scared and alone and, to be honest, Ruby was the only thing keeping me together. She used me, possibly even abused me in some shape or form, but I stuck with her because she was a replacement. She was another Dean. A crappy one, let me tell you... but whenever I looked at her, I saw some resemblance of your passion. I now only realize that that passion was for something else entirely. I'm not sure what that is, but I don't plan to give into it anymore."

They were kissing again. Their lips moving together softly. The lack of tongue was upsetting to Dean, and thus he jutted his into Sam's mouth, trying to feel around it. Sam allured at this action, steeping closer to Dean and angling his head backward. The resumption of their earlier endeavor swept any sign of uncertainty out the under the rug. It could possibly manifest itself in the future, but presently, this moment was more important. Anything that came of this would be pushed back by this. It was something they needed and something they deserved. The only constant element in each others life was one another. They knew that fully. And they knew the risk they were taking at this moment. What everyone else thought of this was obsolete.

_You may have to give up something great in order to accomplish your utter most goal, however this sacrifice will seem minimal at best._


End file.
